


Easy Chair

by AnnieMar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smuff, fluffy fluffballs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieMar/pseuds/AnnieMar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love is either an easy chair or a tank ... you sit back and relax, or you get in and go to war." In which Bucky Barnes develops a friendship with Darcy Lewis. Hijinks ensue. #wintershock</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bye-bye Tank

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leftennant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/gifts), [Q_it](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Q_it/gifts).



> This for Lefty, soul-sister and fellow lover of desserts, and more specifically, papanasi (that's a Romanian doughnut, folks). 
> 
> And this is for Q. For reasons. I know that this isn't exactly your ship, but I want you to know that I'm proud of ya. Keep writing, gurl. Keep being brave. And keep writing the stories that you want to tell.
> 
> Also, I'm really sorry not sorry about this, but there's a little part in chapter 1 that you'll probably only get if you're from Ohio. OH - IO!

**~~::::::...::::::~~**

* * *

Bucky had noticed her before, in meetings, in hallways and elevators, as well as a few parties, such as the one they were at now. Before, she had always been so lively, so animated, and talkative. She never really talked to him, because he preferred to hang back and watch, to observe. He wasn't completely comfortable yet … with much of anything. He was still working out social situations, people asking him questions about himself, his opinions, as he'd been so used to following orders and demands for so long. His brain wasn't quite yet wired to deal with people treating him like a person, and not a machine.

He felt different that night though, felt good, and decided to take a chance, trying to reach out to the person he once was, to the person he knew was still there, deep down. Bucky decided to talk to a girl, something that used to be second-nature. He knew that he was once charming ... but wasn't sure if girls were still charmed by the same kinds of things he was used to. The come-ons he'd always had in his head, lined up in a row ... he wondered if they'd still work.

_Do you like to dance? Then what are we waiting for …_

_Nah._ The music had been toned down about an hour ago, and he wasn't so into dancing these days. Dancing was now a bit … different.

_A pretty girl like you should be smiling. All the time._

That usually had them grinning ear to ear.

But when he came up to her at the ballroom bar in Avengers Tower, he could only open his mouth and say, "a pretty …" He then promptly shut it, remembering that Steve had told him girls didn't exactly like to be told to smile anymore, feeling as if it were patronizing.

_Damnit._

She looked up, frowning with watery eyes. She had a half-empty glass in her hand and her phone was laying on the bar, her text messages open. She blinked at him. "Huh?"

He hadn't stopped to think about why she'd be off alone, apart from the others congregating on the circle of couches. They were wrapping up a successful soiree … the only people still there, being the people who lived in the tower. But judging from her nearly teary eyes and the way she was clutching her drink, she was apparently upset for some reason. He had half a mind to just walk away, but he knew that would be rude. He was never one to make a pretty girl feel uncomfortable, or at least … he never used to be.

He forced himself to stay put. "You're … Darcy?" He practically stammered, and then internally cringed. It was blatantly obvious that his touch was still very lost.

Her face softened, and she raised a brow. "That's me."

"I'm …"

Darcy rolled her eyes slightly. "I know who you are … and I believe we've even been introduced. But you only gave me a nod … and something that resembled a grunt … like a 'hmpf'." She then distorted her features into an exaggerated frown, set her glass down, and crossed her arms.

Bucky's brow furrowed. "Ummm. Sorry about that."

Darcy shrugged, grinning … face relaxing into something less severe, almost humorous. "S'cool. I understand." She then patted the bar-stool beside her. "Have a seat. You're making me nervous."

He sat down, feeling awkward. "I'm … sorry."

She smiled. "Don't be sorry. You're only making me nervous because you're so obviously nervous. Take a load off. I don't bite."

He gave a little laugh and pushed his hair behind his ears. "I'm that obvious, huh?"

She shook her head. "No. You just look like you always do … a little on edge. Here," she pushed her drink towards him. "Take a little edge off. If we're gonna hang, you have to relax."

The tension in his shoulders eased a bit, as she had a very welcoming presence about her. She seemed approachable, as if she could start up a conversation with anyone. Bucky could almost remember being such a person. He picked up the glass she had slid over. "You tryin' to get me drunk?" he asked, grinning, tilting his head.

Darcy looked at him, squinting. "Oh, _there_ you are." Her blue eyes were searching his. She had looked like she'd been on the verge of tears when he first walked up, but now a slow smile came upon her face, as if she had discovered something. "So," she said. "What do you prefer … James? Or Bucky."

He took a drink. It looked like beer, and was carbonated like beer, but was actually sweet. "Um, Bucky. Only teachers ever called me James." He frowned at the glass, setting it down. "What is that?"

"It's cider. Strongbow. You like it? I've already had about five of 'em. I should probably cut myself off."

Bucky nodded, taking another sip.

Darcy inclined her head. "Ya know, my sister has a dog named Bucky."

He choked a little on the drink. "What?"

She laughed. "He's the cutest little beagle. Bucky the beagle."

"Umm …"

_Great. I remind her of a dog._

"My sister … she's a Buckeye fan, but didn't want to be obvious and name her dog 'Buckeye'. So she named him Bucky."

He was confused. "Buckeye fan?"

She gave him a little wave, for the first time revealing that she was perhaps a little drunk, as she swayed in her seat. "You know … Ohio State Buckeyes." She then put up a fist and giggled. "Go Bucks!"

From across the room, he heard a male voice yell, "O - H!"

"I - O!" Darcy instantly yelled back.

Bucky turned around to see Bruce Banner smiling at them, giving them a fist pump.

She shook her head, chuckling. "He's from Ohio. And he's obviously been partaking in the Asgardian sampler pack that Thor brought. He usually only does that on game days."

Bucky grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen him so relaxed."

"I could say the same thing about you," she said, tipping her chin at him. "I'm not sure I've ever heard you speak in full sentences."

He frowned, staring at the glass in his hand. "I'm … trying," Bucky said, softly.

"I know," she said, just as soft.

He looked over at her. She was beautiful … wearing a halter-cut dress, something that might have been worn by a woman when he was young. Her hair was styled in meticulous waves, a blue flower clip behind her ear, that matched the hue of her outfit. He had always loved the soft touches of a girl's ensemble. Like the necklace she wore, a thin silver chain with a tiny star pendant. The colorful woven bracelet at her dainty wrist. He discovered that he wanted to hold that wrist, knowing that if he wrapped his index finger and thumb around it, they'd touch, as her hands were much smaller than his. He found himself making the gesture with his left hand, and hearing a faint click as metal touched metal.

He set his hand in his lap, trying to will the notion away. "I just … I've never seen you alone … sitting by yourself," he said.

Darcy shrugged, glancing at her phone. "I wasn't feelin' it tonight."

She seemed sad … and he'd never seen her that way. "What's wrong?" he asked, instantly regretting it, as he didn't mean to pry. He always hated it when people did it to him.

She sighed. "Me and my boyfriend broke up. Via text message." Darcy gave a little laugh laced in sarcasm. "Almost worse than a post-it note."

Bucky was taken aback, as he hadn't even realized she'd been with anyone. " _Oh_. I'm … so sorry."

Darcy smiled and shook her head. "Don't be. We haven't seen each other in months. He's been in London. It was mostly a formality."

"Still …"

She held up her hand. "It's fine. _Honest_. It was just the final death throw of a hope that was lost a long time ago. I thought he was different. Kind of a goofball, like me. But in the end … he was just another tank."

Bucky was confused. "A … tank?"

_Is this recent ex of hers big? Muscular? Has a shoulder-to-waist ratio like Steve?_

She waved her hand, shaking her head. "Sorry. I've had too much of that cider. It's just something a friend of mine used to say. She always said ... ' _love is either an easy chair or a tank. You either sit back and relax, or you get in and go to war_.'"

Darcy sighed heavily, looking off into some kind of distance. "I want the easy chair. I'm tired of going to war."

He could only blink at her.

She all of a sudden stood up from her stool, her heels clacking on the floor. "Sorry. You should be enjoying the party, and not having to deal with my depressing-ass … the celebration is for you, afterall. I'm taking my tipsy-self to bed."

Bucky nodded, disappointed that she was leaving, but glad they finally had a conversation. "Have a good night," he said, and then winced. How was she supposed to have a good night, if she'd just broken up with someone?

Darcy regarded him for a second, and then seemed to come to a decision of some kind. She grinned, leaned down, and brushed her lips across his cheek. He forced himself not to close his eyes, all of a sudden drunk from her scent, the smell of her perfume. She quickly straightened back up. "Thanks for making me smile. And congrats on your first successful mission as a part of the team, Avenger," she said, nodding towards him.

"Thanks," he said, a bit dumbstruck, his cheek still tingling where she kissed him.

"See ya 'round," she said, before turning and leaving the party behind, the sound of her heels on the floor eventually fading away.

It had been a long time since he'd really made a girl smile, even if he'd felt like a bumbling idiot the entire time. It felt good. Almost familiar. He found that it was then easier to return to the team, some of them his friends, and for the first time in … well, he couldn't remember … he could sit back and relax.

* * *

**~~*...*~~**

Bucky didn't take Darcy's "see ya 'round" as anything other than a casual goodbye, something a co-worker might say to another co-worker … but as it turned out, she'd actually meant it.

She found him in the upper-level gym a few days after the party, where he was practicing throwing knives.

"Do you really need to practice? You make every single target."

He whipped around in a defensive stance, saw that it was Darcy, and relaxed. "You shouldn't sneak up behind me." Bucky frowned. "Actually … most people can't do that."

_Am I starting to lose it? Not just my mind … but everything else, too?_

She only laughed. "Don't worry. I can take care of myself. Wanna get lunch?"

He took a deep breath, taking in his surroundings, making sure everything was in its place … as if there was an inner recalibration.

_Why is she here? She wants to get lunch ..._

He blinked, finally seeing that she was wearing a woman's suit, but instead of a dress shirt under her black jacket, she was wearing a t-shirt. He wasn't sure how, but it worked on her. She was also wearing her glasses on the bridge of her nose, which reminded him of a librarian, in the best possible sense. "Okay."

Darcy looked up at him, giving him a crooked grin, reached over and patted his arm. His metal arm. "It's cool, yo. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give you a heart attack."

Bucky stood straighter. "You didn't. Give me a heart attack."

She shrugged. "Okay, then. Meet you in the lobby in an hour?"

He gave her a short nod, not exactly sure what was happening.

_Lunch? Is this a date? A meeting?_

Darcy seemed to read his mind. "It's just lunch, dude." She then reached over and picked up one of his practice knives from a bench, and stood next to him. She brought her hand back, pausing to assess the distance of the targets. He grinned as he crossed his arms and watched, thinking this should be good.

_Or maybe I should get out of the way?_

She threw the knife, hitting the target perfectly.

Bucky turned and stared at her.

She only laughed and began to walk out of the gym. "See ya in an hour!"

* * *

**~~*...*~~**

"I thought you were the Avenger's computer genius," Bucky said, sitting across from Darcy in a Chinatown dive.

She looked up from her plate of sesame chicken. "Yeah. I'm the I.T. guy," she said, giving a shrug.

"Then what was with the knife?"

Darcy gave him a smirk. "I've had some training."

"From who?"

"A friend." She tilted her head in thought. "But it was a different sort of training. He was like a magical Mr. Miyagi. There was a lot of 'wax on, wax off'-type bullshit going on … and then one day, something clicked, and it was like riding a bike."

He inclined his head. "You mean you don't practice?"

She pursed her lips. "Nah, not really" she said, casually.

Bucky set down his fork. "Knife-work is like any other practice. Baseball players don't all of a sudden stop practicing because they hit a homerun. They practice in order to stay in shape, to try and do better and better."

"Do or do not. There is no try." Darcy was grinning at him, as if she knew a joke that he didn't.

This irritated him. She was good. _Very_ good. How did he not know this? "Who was your teacher?"

"You don't know him," she said, after taking a sip of her Coke. "He's not from around here."

"So what … you learned a type of martial-arts knife-work from some Japanese master on the top of a mountain?"

She laughed. "No. It was a little … more north of there."

Bucky leaned back in his chair, agitated.

Darcy gave him an apologetic smile. "Dude. I'm sorry that I melted your brain because I can hit a target with a knife. I learned on Asgard, okay? They do shit a little differently there. There are ladies called 'shieldmaidens' for fucks sake. There's an _actual_ Valkyrie. Women can be fierce warriors. They see battle and war as an artform. I learned enough to defend myself if I need to, which I figured would be a good idea, given my line of work … being a hacker for a group of superheros. You guys tend to fight people called "super villains". I mean, I wanted to be able to take care of myself, and not be like … cannon fodder. Or a liability." She picked up her chopsticks, shrugging. "Don't worry," she said, stabbing at her chicken. "I'm probably not better than you are at knives."

He laughed. "Oh, there is no probably."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hey there, your 1940's machismo is showing."

"It has nothing to do with the 40's," he grumbled.

"Okay," she said, going back to her meal.

His brow had to have been furrowed since they'd gotten there, as he had no idea what to make of this beautiful, alluring, and downright strange girl. A girl who had trained on a different realm? The concept still made little sense to him. He knew that Thor was literally from another world, and that she was close to him, as well as best friend to Jane Foster, but he found himself wondering what she could have seen, what she could have experienced over the last few years … when the universe seemed to open up.

_What is she doing here with me?_

"Why did you ask me to lunch?

Darcy seemed to think over the question for a second while she chewed. "Well," she said, after swallowing … "I figured you should get out there every once in awhile, ya know? You seem a bit like how Steve was, his first year after waking up … wandering around kinda aimlessly. The only thing he ever did was work and go on depressing errands … like visiting the graves of Howling Commandos, sitting with his girlfriend in a nursing home … and hanging out at the Smithsonian. And he kept going on about a barbershop quartet. And then … it seemed like Sam and Nat … and then you, of course, brought him out of his shell. That shell that looks so good strapped to his back," she said, finishing her thought with a smirk.

Bucky looked down at his plate. She'd asked him out because she felt sorry for him.

"Bucky. Look at me," he could hear her say. He looked up.

Darcy gave him a reassuring smile. "If you ask me a question, I'll only ever tell you the truth. I asked you out for lunch because there's a whole world out there. A world that has nothing to do with Avenger's Tower and missions. We all need to be reminded of that sometimes … _I_ need to be reminded of it. I get wrapped up in the work, just like everyone else. I wander around aimlessly too, wondering what the hell it is I'm doing, if it's even all worth it. I needed to get away, too. I mean, I've been working with Tony for the past 72 hours and I needed some fucking air … and a break from goddamn AC/DC." She paused, thinking. "And some spring rolls. I needed spring rolls. Sometimes you really just need something fried, ya know?"

His brow softened, and he picked his fork back up. "Alright."

"Plus," she said, her eyes looking him over. "You're kind of adorable. I mean, you're eating crab rangoon with a knife and fork. I can't wait to see how you eat a fortune cookie."

* * *

**~~*...*~~**

After their first lunch, many more came after it. So did going to the movies, walking around Central Park, grabbing coffee, and even shopping. They did the things that friends did, or even couples. Bucky wasn't sure that he'd have anything in common with Darcy, or if he'd have things in common with anyone except Steve and perhaps Natasha … but he found that the more things change, the more things stay the same. People still ate dinner. People still loved to be entertained. People still danced … they just did it a little, well … _different_.

At times, Steve or Jane would go out with them, or even Thor and Clint. He found himself being a real part of the group, actually able to call them friends instead of co-workers. They were more than that, they were comrades. They fought together but also had fun together … like how they all developed a love of going to a golf range in the suburbs, partaking in Asgardian spirits, and then still out-performing any of the civilians that happened to be there, sauced or no. The professional golf-players who would stop by, really hated that.

Bucky began enjoying simple things again, like eating breakfast with Steve and Sam, after a jog at sunrise. Listening to Tony argue with his A.I. assistant, while working on upgrading his prosthetic, making sure that it was now American-made, and not the work of HYDRA. He loved sparring with Thor, practicing with a demi-god, making him stronger, learning a new art form of battle. He liked playing video games with Clint and Scott … telling inside jokes in Russian with Natasha, watching football with Bruce. And he really loved putting his arm around Darcy, after they'd seen something scary or sad at the movie theater, telling her that it wasn't real. Once, she'd argued with him, saying that the movie they watched was a true story. He pulled her in closer, telling her that it was only _based_ on a true story. Barely true at all. She'd always give him little grins, whenever he spun things to cheer her up … as if the fact that he tried to make her feel better made her smile, and not his funny logic.

But they only ever did date-things as friends, and nothing more. There were no goodnight kisses, no hand holding, and no getting to first or second base in dark movie theaters. Darcy seemed to actually go to the theater because she liked to watch films, instead of only trying to find a place to be alone, like he'd done with girls when he was young. None of his old lines worked on her, as they'd only either go over her head, or she'd end up laughing at him, telling him to brush up on the Women's Liberation Movement and Second and Third-wave feminism. And even though he had those Wikipedia entries bookmarked on his new laptop, it still didn't give him a clue as to how to take things to the next level.

After several months of non-dating, Bucky had all but given up on taking things further … as Sam and Tony told him that he'd gone straight into the "friend-zone" a while ago. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200 dollars. The easy friendship he had developed with Darcy still had its benefits, however. After a short time, he found that he had less and less nightmares waking him up in the middle of the night, as she seemed to be a distraction from his constant thoughts of the past. His brain had time to mellow out, the synapses not always following the same pathways, so he could begin to think about new things. Positive things. He sometimes remembered bits and pieces, or he would have a flash here or there, a fleeting memory of the cold, or an emotion that had been stuffed back down and wiped away … but he was now able to let those thoughts pass by easier. Turn the page. Dial it down.

But the nightmares didn't completely go away … such as one fateful night when Bucky woke up, unable to breath. He felt as if he were suffocating in an icy tomb, buried deep beneath the snow in a remote wasteland. He sat straight up, the emotion of fear sweating out of him, he could practically smell it. He got out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and headed down the hall to Steve's apartment. He stood at his door and held up his fist to knock, but then thought better of it. Steve would mean well, but he'd only get that worried look on his face. He'd insist that he talk to Sam right away, or add an emergency session to his therapy schedule.

Bucky didn't feel like going through all of that. Dissecting the situation already sounded exhausting. It was just a dream. Barely true at all.

He found himself walking further down the hall, disoriented. He raised his hand again to knock on a different door, almost as if it were involuntary.

Darcy opened her door after a few knocks and a press on her buzzer.

She looked up at him, obviously tired, but not angry or surprised. Her hair was adorably mussed. She was wearing flannel pajama bottoms … and nothing but a tank top. Or rather, nothing _under_ the tank top.

"You alright?"

Bucky blinked. He thought enough to nod a few times. "Um … yeah. But … I just." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, hoping she didn't think he was insane. "I just don't want to be alone … right now."

She didn't give him a look of pity or concern, and he thought that perhaps he loved her for it. Darcy simply stepped back and opened her door wider. "That's cool," she said. "I was just messing around with my laptop in bed … trying to hack into Lang's computer."

"Why would you hack into Scott's computer?"

"Because I can … and he said that I couldn't. That's like, an open invitation in my world."

He walked through her door, already feeling better, and she shut it behind them.

**~~::::::...::::::~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Bruce Banner is from Dayton, Ohio. I know this because I looked it up. I swear.


	2. All I Want for Christmas (is an Easy Chair)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's all kinds of confused about Darcy. Is also a romantic. And does not appreciate The Walking Dead and it's never-ending supply of bullets. As if.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have some 'splaining to do. Like, I meant to get this up BEFORE Q's birthday and that was like, so long ago, I am so bad. This was supposed to be a Thanksgiving fic and it turned into a Christmas fic. 
> 
> So merry Christmas, you guys! And a special shout-out to Lefty and Q. And also happy terribly-belated birthday to you both.

 

**~~::::::...::::::~~**

* * *

After entering Darcy's apartment, she led Bucky down the hallway and into her room. He'd been to her place a countless amount of times now, either alone or with other people, watching TV, having dinner, playing late-night sessions of Cards Against Humanity, stuff like that … but he'd never been to her room.

She entered and he stood in the doorway, watching her, as she bounced back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged, and picking her laptop up. Darcy patted the side next to her. "Come on … the bed is big enough for like, five people to sleep in, and you look like you need some rest."

He slowly stepped inside, looking around. The curtains were drawn, the television was off, and the lights were turned very low. He noticed she had tapestries lining the walls, an ornate bookshelf filled with well-loved novels and knick knacks, candles in strategic places, though none of them were lit, and pillows and cushions everywhere. On one hand, it had a very modern feel, as there were the normal electronics that every American had in their room these days, but it also looked as if it could be a room in an upscale brothel in Marrakech. It was a thought that didn't exactly help his predicament … or his confusion over the nature of their relationship.

"You're room," he mumbled, as he inched towards the bed. "It's uh, very … cozy."

Darcy smirked, looking up from her computer. "It's my sanctuary. I read an article in Oprah's magazine once … she said that your bed should only be used for sleeping and sex, for ultimate rest, like your brain should only associate your bedroom with proper sleep, and fucking, apparently, but I think that's kinda bullshit. It's more like my grown-up version of the blanket-forts we made as kids. It's where I can shut out the world. Feel hidden and safe, ya know? I really miss blanket-forts. I'm kinda bitter that as adults, we're supposed to grow out of them. I mean, sex in a blanket-fort sounds like fun."

He sighed as he sat on what was to evidently be his side of the bed.

_Why did she have to mention sex?_

There was a time when he'd have had a million comebacks for the things she said … and even though he could feel himself stretching out, going back to that person, that far away person, a little bit more every day … he still wasn't used to how blatant and candid women could be these days. It still took him aback, and he never would have thought that could ever happen. It made him feel old. Disconnected. Uncomfortable.

"Here," she said, pulling back the covers, "climb in. There are no nightmares here. I have wards against them."

Bucky gave a little laugh. "Nightmares? I'm always so obvious, huh? Apparently obvious in all the wrong ways."

She gave him an sheepish grin. "You're not obvious, Bucky. I just … I understand nightmares. Not wanting to be alone. See that smudge-stick over there?" She pointed to a bundle of herbs she'd placed on a table, next to little statues. "That's my altar to good vibes over there. Burning sage clears a room of negative energy. There are no bad vibes here. Only good ones."

He smiled as he sank back into her pillows … so very soft. And they smelled of lavender. It really was a sanctuary. "Burning away negative energy? Have you told your science bros about that theory?"

Darcy gave him a look, one that said "don't be stupid". It was a look that they gave each other equally while they were together, as they had a habit of playful bickering and making fun. "Pshhh," she said, giving him a little wave. "Mr. Science Bro Bruce is into it even more than I am. He lights his incense daily right before morning meditation. We all have our things … you know, life hacks, little tricks that help. Things to keep you present. Sometimes if you believe a thing can help, it's real. To you."

"Hm. So your room wards off nightmares? What do you know about nightmares," he asked, blinking up at the ceiling. She had stuck a galaxy of glow-in-the-dark stars up there, and he slightly shook his head, wondering why he was at all surprised.

"You think I haven't seen things that could give a person nightmares?"

"I didn't mean it that way."

"I know," she said, quietly. "I can't imagine what you've been though, Bucky. Seriously. But I had this … you know, thing … with nightmares, for awhile."

He turned to look at her. "What kind of thing?"

She rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. "Weeeellll, there was the fire-breathing robot called The Destroyer, and the people that named him were very literal, as that's what he did, mainly. He destroyed. Then there were the Dark Elves … fire demons, death deities. You know, the normal stuff."

He laughed. "Seems pretty standard."

Darcy inclined her head, remembering. "Yeah, the Dark Elves were the worst. They were just so creepy and inhuman. Like, Thor is technically an alien, but he has a humanity about him. These guys … they had no humanity. And they had this massive Death Star ship that was in the shape of a uterus or something, like an alien death uterus … like, is that supposed to be aerodynamic somehow? They spread darkness throughout the universe in an evil uterus ship? And not only were they creepy, but they wore these even _creepier_ masks, like … Michael Myers masks or something. And I used to love those Halloween movies, but now I can't watch them. I even have trouble watching anything with William Shatner in it, because I know that the original Michael Myers mask was just a Captain Kirk mask painted white. That's really fucked up, right?"

Bucky always marveled at her impressive ramblings, the twists and turns of her brain. He knew that he'd been given a whole bucket-load of information, but he could only concentrate on one thing at a time. "They wore masks?"

"Yeah," she said, nonchalantly, looking back down at her computer. "And since they were elves, of course, they had this really elaborate hair-braiding thing going on, so they also kinda ruined Legolas for me. I'm pretty pissed off about that."

He raised a brow. "We should have watched Lord of the Rings on Halloween instead of that Hocus Pocus movie you insisted on. Face your fears."

Darcy gave a little shrug. "Sure, and while we're at it, we'll watch that Tom Cruise movie where he gets cryogenically frozen as the seriously lame twist."

Bucky laughed. "I love that you can make fun of my time as a … what do you call it? Terminator?"

"T-1000," she said.

"Right. And then my time in the cryo tank. Solo-ized. You got it from the Han Solo thing ... being frozen in …"

"Carbonite. "

He smiled up at the glow-in-the-dark stars above him. "I love how you don't walk on eggshells around me."

"I walk on eggshells for no man," Darcy said, not missing a beat.

Bucky turned on his side towards her, settling into the bed and looking at her, as she typed away on her computer. "Thanks," he simply said.

"Just don't walk on eggshells around me," she said, without looking up.

He regarded her for a second, wondering what it is she could have meant, but she just kept most of her attention on her screen.

She then finally looked up and gave him a little smile. "Get some sleep. I'll be here. There are only good dreams in this room … I had all the bad ones banished."

He closed his eyes, thinking of a good dream, one where he woke up and she was in his arms, instead of all the way on the other side of the bed.

* * *

**~~*...*~~**

"Wait a minute, wait a minute … you mean to tell me that you've spent the night sleeping in Darcy's bed how many times? And you still ain't gettin' any?"

"Sam …" Steve said, with his "dad" tone.

Wilson shook his head in bewilderment. "No wonder you shower before goin' out runnin' in the morning. I never understood until this moment. You need some … _time_. To yourself."

Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table with Steve and Sam after an early run. The two had decided to give into their curiosity, and ask him why he hadn't been in his room lately, when they'd knocked on his door for their dawn cardio sessions.

Before answering, he glared at Sam as he took his time gulping down his orange juice. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I wish I never would have told you where I was. It's just … not like that."

"Not like what?"

Bucky shrugged. "I don't know. We just don't … do that."

"Do what?" Tony Stark picked the perfect time to waltz in, going straight for the coffee.

"Nothing," Steve said, hoping the subject would be dropped, eyes directed at his cereal.

Tony leaned up against the counter and grinned. "Oh, you're talking about Barnes sneaking out of Shawty's apartment in the morning? Walking around bow-legged from a serious case of blue balls?"

Steve looked up at him and frowned. "How did you ..."

"Banner mentioned seeing him in her wing," Tony said, cutting Steve off. "So I looked up the video."

Bucky nearly choked on his orange juice. "What?! Why would-"

"And well … then of course, I just asked her. Me and Shawty have no secrets."

"WHAT?" Bucky couldn't believe what he was hearing, and was about to get angry, but then curiosity got the better of him. "Well … what she'd say?"

Stark raised a brow. It was infuriating. An infuriating brow. "She said you've been marathoning Breaking Bad and you just end up falling asleep there."

Bucky frowned. "That is true." He tilted his head. "That's all she said?" He then winced at his question.

_Am I turning into a 13-year-old girl?_

Tony shrugged. "She said you had to take a break from binge-watching The Walking Dead because you kept critiquing everything and driving her crazy."

Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Everyone on Rick's team makes every single shot they aim for. A person would have to train for years for that sort of precision. Not to mention the fact that there seems to be a never-ending supply of bullets somehow. And the knife-work … so much bad form. They make sticking a knife through someone's brain look as easy as cutting through softened butter, but you have to go through the bone of the skull, and in many situations ..."

"Alright, i'mma stop you there," Sam said, holding up a hand. "You wonder why the booty be on the other side of the bed, when you been goin' on about the right way to stab someone in the brain?"

He shrugged. "She … well, it's just easy to talk to her. About anything. She doesn't … judge."

The corner of Tony's mouth twitched. "Sounds like you're her gay best friend."

Bucky looked sideways, peering between Steve and Sam. "Gay best friend?"

"Yeah," Tony said, walking towards them, and taking the empty seat at the table. "Gay best friend. You go out to dinner, go the the movies, have sleep-overs … braid each other's hair …"

"That was one time."

"Um. One time is too many times if you ever wanted to get into her panties. You guys talk about each other's feelings and don't have sex. You are her gay best friend. The ship has sailed, my man, and it was in fact, a gay cruise. Soon, she'll be asking you for advice on dating. She'll ask you for a 'male point of view' about some guy she's seeing. It's over. You've been friend-zoned."

"Yeah," Sam said. "It's like you have a girlfriend, but none of the actual perks."

"Perks?"

"Yeah. The booty."

"Not everything is about the …" Bucky stopped what he was saying and put his face in his hands. "Good Lord, now I _really_ don't know who I am anymore. That's all I ever wanted … the uh … the booty," he said, tripping over the word, the modern slang still feeling strange rolling off his tongue.

Steve gave him a sympathetic smile. "What's got you so skittish, Buck? I used to watch the words just flow out of your mouth, so smooth around dames. I'd stand back in awe, listening to you bullshit your way into a girl's arms."

Bucky shook his head. "It's different."

"How so?" Sam asked. "Have girls really changed that much?"

He bit his lip, thinking. "Yes and no. Women can be bonafide platonic friends with men these days … it's encouraged. That sort of thing was _not_ encouraged when I was young. It throws me off. But also … I _care_ about this … I never cared back then. I mean, I cared, but I was never …"

"In love?" Steve asked, a slight smirk on his perfect face. Bucky wanted to punch it right off. But he knew that his best friend was right. Since when did Steve Rogers become more aware of these things … even more aware than him?

Bucky blinked, leaned over, and lightly tapped his forehead on the table. Several times.

_In love. Goddamn it._

* * *

**~~*...*~~**

"Are you visiting your family for Thanksgiving?"

They had gone back to trying to watch The Walking Dead, but Bucky had laughed during a key Carol-bad-ass-moment as Darcy had put it, and she'd turned the TV to the Food Network, and a show about extreme turkey-cooking.

"Not talking to you right now," she said, eyes on her laptop, as per usual.

He sighed. "Come on, Darcy. Okay, I can see Carol making the first shot, she had a scope … but the aim of that firework? Conveniently blowing up the whole place? Not even remotely believable."

Darcy's jaw dropped open and she turned to stare over at him on his side of the bed. "Oh. My. God. Why does it have to be 100% accurate? It's a zombie apocalypse show, for fuck's sake. There's no way a virus would even work like that. Ever. Jane debunked the whole thing in season one, it makes no sense, and yet we still watch. Religiously. Like, why does it take some walkers two minutes to turn and then for others it takes like, a day? And what kind of metabolism does a dead person even have? Why do they feel compelled to eat living flesh? Because it's a zombie show, that's why. I mean, you didn't seem to care that Shane all of a sudden looked like a week-old corpse when he turned, despite being dead for like, twenty minutes, but you had a _huge_ problem with Carl shooting him right in the head on his first try. Why does all the weaponry have to be so damn accurate with you? Why do you hate fun so much?"

"The kid was shaking way too much to make that shot, and it wasn't an easy shot," Bucky mumbled. "And I don't hate fun."

She laughed and gave him a long look. "I see glimpses of fun in there. But I also see you holding back … what gives?"

He looked down, wanting to change the subject, because if he didn't hold back, he might just tell her he loved her, making a total fool of himself. "So … are you visiting your family for Thanksgiving?"

He could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds before she answered.

Darcy sighed, blowing out a long breath she seemed to be holding. "Meh."

He looked back up at her. If she was at all frustrated with him, she wasn't showing it. "So … no?"

"Nah."

"Why not?"

"No point. My family … they all live in different parts of the country, and when we do get together for the holidays, I usually just end up regretting being there. It's mayhem. Nephews and nieces running around and screaming their heads off. Uncles and the other menfolk regurgitating shit they heard on Fox News. Telling racist jokes and congratulating each other on their statuses as complete douchebags. My mom and aunts wondering what's wrong with me … why am I not married, why am I not trying to settle down, have kids … and meanwhile there's kids spilling cranberry sauce on the white carpet, having meltdowns over the fact that there are no chicken nuggets on the Thanksgiving menu, only turkey so dry that it's important to have someone on standby who knows the Heimlich Maneuver … and all the husbands are watching football and drinking beer and their pants are unbuttoned, and they're not doing dishes or lifting a finger, they're just sitting there with green bean casserole stains on their shirts, and I'm like … _damn_ , why wouldn't I want an everyday version of this? I mean, they're all just livin' the dream, man. Livin' the dream."

Bucky peered at her.

_And yet another epic ramble._

He grinned at his adorably crazy … _friend_. "So then … how would you want to spend your Thanksgiving?"

"With people I want to be around. With the people that actually know me. With people who don't think of Donald Trump as a valid presidential candidate. With people who don't make me feel like I'm living in a twilight zone because I've never watched an episode of Dances with the Stars. With people who don't seriously think that living with the Avengers must be exactly like living with the dudes on The Big Bang Theory. Only with muscles."

He tipped his head at her. "We could do something here."

"Yeah, but you guys are always on call, so that means _I'm_ always on call, which is honestly the real reason I don't go home. I have somehow turned into a workaholic. I'm not sure how it happened, but it did … and if there's an official 'assemble', there goes the party."

"That probably won't happen."

"Super-villains don't take a holiday."

"Don't be such a pessimist. Even super-villains need a day off."

Darcy gasped. "No you didn't! Hey, Pot, I have someone I'd like you to meet, his name is Kettle … and he's not half-full, he's half-empty."

He gave her a crooked grin. "I'd like to think that I'm not quite that bad anymore."

She returned the gesture. "You're not. You smile a lot more now."

He watched her for a second, as a warmth spread through his body. "You're not at all like the girls I used to know."

Darcy looked away, blushing. "Don't say that."

"Why?"

"Because I am like other girls."

Bucky shook his head. "I never knew girls who were sarcastic. Who knew just as much about baseball and music as I did. Who had an extensive collection of knives and daggers."

Darcy pursed her lips and shrugged. "Maybe you just never really knew those girls. Most of us have whole parts of ourselves that we keep secret, like a Tumblr blog, or we only show certain stuff to other women, because we're afraid of being seen as silly. We also probably open up more to our guy-friends who are gay."

Bucky frowned. "What?"

She stuck a finger in the air, as if remembering something. "Hey, that reminds me, can I ask you a question? Like, from a male perspective?"

_Oh no._

"Huh?"

"You know," she said. "From a male point of view."

_Oh, God._

He sighed, nearly rolling his eyes. "Um … okay?"

"So what do dudes want for Christmas? I'm stumped. I'm not sure what to get for my grandpa, and you guys are around the same age, so I figured you might have some insight."

Bucky stared at her, unblinking.

She then sat on her bed a bit stunned after one of her many cushy satiny pillows hit her in the face. Which of course, only led to more soft things being thrown around and used as weapons, until he had her pinned down, as it seemed as though Darcy was incapable of surrendering. He had rendered her immobile, looming over her, holding her wrists with his cybernetic hand, and keeping her legs from moving with his. She was also laughing so hard that tears were beginning to stream down her face. It was infectious, and he found that he was laughing too. And when she looked up at him, her blue eyes seemingly filled with nothing but pure … _joy,_ he almost couldn't help it. Couldn't help but to lean down and kiss her. It would have been perfect. There was laughter, they were already touching … there was a bed ...

He leaned down … and then rolled off of her, letting her go. Bucky winced, staring up at her glow-in-the-dark galaxy on her ceiling. When did he become such a …

_Coward ..._

As she was freed, Darcy's laughter died down next to him, her breathing returning to normal. "You're no help," she said. "I guess grandpa gets another coffee mug with a duck on it."

He gave a short laugh, more like a huff. "You might be better off asking Steve for that sort of advice."

Darcy shrugged from her spot, still lying on the bed. "I did. I got the same sort of reaction that I got with you."

He turned over to her.

_Really._

"Steve hit you in the face with cushions?"

_And then pinned you down … and nearly kissed you?_

"Nah, he pointed at me and said, 'ya know what, Lewis?' And I was like 'no, I don't know what, Rogers. That's why I am asking you'. And then he threw a piece of toast at me, because we were in the kitchen. And I was like, _dude_ thanks for the advice, man … I think I'll get grandpa a toaster for Christmas this year. You rock."

Bucky shook his head, sitting up. She was so damn confusing. He never knew when she was serious, or even if any of the affection she had for him was in any way unique, as it seemed as if she was just as friendly and flirtatious with everyone else in the Avengers.

He looked down at her. She was beautiful, with her long brown locks framing her face. He thought about what she would look like … under him. Not laughing … but … _moaning_. He cleared his throat. "So what do _you_ want for Christmas?"

Darcy put a finger to her lips. "Well … there's a Christmas Mariah song that would tell you."

He frowned. "Who?"

"Nevermind," she said, before launching herself off the bed and heading to her bathroom.

Bucky was left shaking his head to himself, as usual, the mood and his chance, most definitely gone for the night.

* * *

**~~*...*~~**

"You … how did you do this?"

Darcy was standing in her living room in her pajamas, hands on her hips, staring at Bucky … who happened to be sitting in a brand new easy chair, and looking very pleased with himself.

"How did you get this in here, without me noticing?"

He raised a brow and gave her that look that said "don't be stupid".

She nodded. "Right. A world-renown ninja spysassin can get an easy chair into a girl's apartment if he wants to."

Bucky just gave her a slow grin, noticing how she couldn't keep a huge toothy smile off her face.

"You got me an easy chair for Christmas?" she asked, dreamily. It was the latest in easy chair technology, or at least Tony Stark had insisted that it was. It was also purple, her favorite color, and complimented her "brothel in Marrakech" aesthetic.

He tilted his head. "Well, yeah. I just thought we could do what you wanted for the holiday. Since we ended up having to cancel Thanksgiving, because of Hell's Kitchen being caught on fire. _Again_."

"Stupid super villains," she muttered.

"You had said you just wanted to watch holiday specials and eat pumpkin pie with your friends. So I figured we could have dinner. Watch movies on Netflix. Whenever we all watch TV over here, you always end up on the floor with everyone else on your couch. You deserve your own chair."

She laughed. It was a laugh that seemed a bit nervous, a bit surprised, and a bit something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Thank you, Bucky," she said, softly.

"You're welcome."

She walked over and picked up the huge bow he'd put on top of the easy chair. "Soooo, what you're saying is, for Christmas … you want to watch Netflix?"

Bucky nodded, as she stuck the bow on her chest.

"And chill?" she asked, looking down at him through her lashes.

He frowned, becoming flustered. "I … I guess? I admit to not being completely up to speed on modern slang, but I think I've figured out what 'chill' means," Bucky said, standing up.

"You sure about that?"

Bucky sighed and shook his head. "Honestly, I'm never sure about anything when it comes to you. You're always looking at me like you know some big joke that I don't, you've always got some wicked twinkle in your eye. I'm beginning to think that you are the actual super-villain you keep talking about."

Darcy only smirked at him. "Well. You're not wrong. About one of those things."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Come on, I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"You have no idea."

* * *

**~~*...*~~**

Sam and Tony were going at it over the Christmas dinner table. Arguing over the question of the ages.

"It's PEE-can pie."

"Nope. It's pic-AHN pie."

"Oh my god, you guys … this is a moo point. It's like a cow's opinion. You know, it just doesn't matter. It's moo."

Tony blinked at Darcy. "Shawty. You say things with such a straight face sometimes, that I have no idea if you're being serious. How are we not related?"

"Well … there was that one conspiracy theory. That I was the daughter of you and Maya Hansen … even though the math is _way_ off on that one."

Tony tilted his head. "You do look like her. You're not working for an evil scientist, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. Jane is actually very evil."

"It's true," Jane said. "And an evil scientist is nothing without a good minion. Darcy completes me."

Stark nodded, going back to his pecan pie. "I can totally believe the two of you are evil … as how else could you have gotten Banner to dance to Christmas music? _Had_ to have been some kind of evil sorcery."

Darcy laughed. "Oh, that's where you're wrong, _dad_ … we just use good old-fashioned feminine wiles for that kind of thing. We can make anyone dance."

"Not me," Steve said.

"No," she said, after taking a sip of wine. "You walked in our lab, saw us dancing, and then turned right back around and walked away, just like Bucky did. Because you knew that if you stayed, you'd end up on the dance floor. Gettin' down with your bad self. Feelin' the groove."

Bucky held up his hands in protest. "You were wearing a Santa beard, Bruce was wearing antlers, Jane was wearing elf shoes, I had never heard the song … I had no idea what was happening, so I just opted out. Doesn't mean I don't dance. Just means … I don't dance like _that_."

"What even was that?" Tony asked. "What was with all the dancing in the labs the past week?"

"The '12 Days of Christmas' ritual they've conjured," Thor said, adding to the conversation. "Jane and Darcy have been doing it the past few seasons, with each year becoming more and more ridiculous."

"Yep," Jane said. "That was the 'Ladies Dancing' day."

Stark peered at them. "How do you do 'Lords a Leaping'?"

Darcy shrugged. "We talked Thor into dancing to House of Pain."

Tony started laughing. " _Jump Around_? Please, do tell us how you do 'Maids a Milking'."

"That's a closely guarded secret," Jane winked, while looking at her man.

"It is quite nice," Thor said in return.

"Nevermind." Tony took a drink of his scotch.

After dinner, the girls went off to do their own thing, as Bucky had made a point to not let them lift a finger all day. He'd remembered Darcy's complaint that men tended to sit around like vegetables during holidays, so he was out to prove her wrong.

He was helping to clear the table with the other guys, when Tony turned to him shaking his head.

"What are you still doing here? And not with Darcy, learning her little 'maids a milking' trick? You should be doing the thing. The 'Netflix and chill' thing … sitting in that new state-of-the-art easy chair, with her in your lap."

Bucky frowned. "What does that even mean? Netflix and chill? Why does everyone keep saying that? Darcy mentioned it."

"Nobody tell him," Tony said, looking at the other men in the kitchen. Both Thor and Steve looked confused, but Sam had his face in his hands, shaking his head.

"Barnes," Wilson choked, trying to keep laughter at bay. "Go. Please. Go now. Go get the booty."

Tony only rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "I am so disappointed. You're hopeless. It's all I ever heard about you, that you were the only one who could even think about being in the same ladykiller-league as my father, and here you are … getting the girl you're in love with, an easy chair for Christmas, for chrissake."

Bucky shrugged. "I didn't know what to get her. Things are different from when I was growing up. Girls were over the moon about anything then. No one had money. They gushed over candy, flowers, a cheap piece of jewelry that would turn their finger green."

Tony smiled. "Well, in that way, women haven't changed. They still love that stuff. The good ones do."

"Anyway," Bucky said. "I asked her what she wanted for Christmas and I didn't know what she was talking about."

"What was it?" Steve asked.

"Some Christmas song? Someone named Maria? Or Mariah?"

Tony blinked at him. "Are you serious? You poor poor man. I don't know whether you're incredibly lucky, or incredibly unlucky right now. Lucky that you don't know anything about Mariah, but unlucky in that you might have taken care of your little problem weeks ago."

"Huh?"

Stark only rolled his eyes again. "Friday? Play Barnes some 'All I Want for Christmas'. Mariah Carey."

"Of course," the A.I. voice said.

Sam interjected, chuckling, as music started playing. "How do you know that's the Mariah song, Tony? Maybe that's not all she wants for Christmas. Maybe she wants a 'hero'," he said, barely able to speak through laughter.

Bucky was confused. "Why-"

Tony held up a finger. "Just listen."

Bucky began to hear the melody of the tune, and recognized it as the song Jane and Darcy had been dancing to, the day he'd walked into the lab, only to walk right back out. He hadn't particularly been in the mood, to be talked into dancing like an idiot, and Darcy most-definitely possessed the ability to do such a thing.

_I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need, I don't care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree, I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know, make my wish come true oh, all I want for Christmas is you …_

"Oh," Bucky said, his brow extremely furrowed.

"Yeah, _oh_. Now get the hell outta here," Tony said.

Steve nodded, biting back a grin. "You should probably go."

" _Verily_ ," Thor encouraged.

"GO GET THE BOOTY! Run! Don't walk." Sam then walked up and physically turned him around, pushing him forward and out the door, as he'd felt as if he'd been bashed over the head.

He felt every bit like the idiot he was, walking down the hall and to her apartment.

* * *

**~~*...*~~**

And so on Christmas evening, Bucky found himself in the exact same predicament as before. He'd knock on her door to find her in bed, watching some show or other. She'd ask if he'd like to join, and of course he'd say yes. And of course, later, he'd find himself staring up at her ceiling, wondering what to do, while she nodded off.

But he knew what to do this time, and Bucky had had it. At this point, it was either go big or go home. Either make a move, or go back to his own apartment, he couldn't do it anymore.

His mind had made the decision, but his body didn't want to budge. It took him several minutes of warring with himself, to work up the nerve to scoot to the middle of the bed. Then after what felt like a lifetime, he put his left hand on Darcy's waist, leaned down, and gave her bare shoulder the lightest of kisses.

At first, he thought she was asleep, but then she turned, rolled over, and faced him, expressionless ... their bodies and faces extremely close.

He realized that he must have looked shocked. "I … uh …"

A grin formed at the corner of her mouth. "You ready?"

"Ready?"

"You're gonna have to kiss me, if you want to do this. I kind of made a deal with myself. You gotta make the first move, when you're ready, for you know," she pointed between herself and him. "This."

Bucky's mind went blank as his heart jumped into his throat. He didn't exactly feel like having some huge talk … he'd ask her about it later, ask whether or not she'd been aching every bit as he'd been. But for now, he didn't care, he just closed the gap between them and kissed her. Hard.

After they melted into each other, Instinct kicked in, and his hand slid up her side. Before he knew it, he was cupping a clothed breast and squeezing.

_So soft ... so full._

They both groaned.

He was hoping to take things much further than what was currently happening, but there was usually one of two places where a girl would put on the brakes ... when she'd realize that things were going a little fast, and he was about to come upon that first yield sign. His fingers dipped under the hem of her tank top, and he began to push it up, his hand brushing over the skin of her stomach. Darcy then sat up.

Bucky's first instinct was to put his hands where she could see them. "I'm sorry … we don't have to go fast."

Darcy raised a brow. "But what if I like going fast?" she asked, lifting her shirt up and over her head. She threw it to the floor. "I was just trying to help you out."

He froze, looking her in the eyes.

She gave a little laugh. "It's okay, you can look. I want you to."

**~~::::::...::::::~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not fade-to-black. There's smut. This chapter was just getting a little long and it needed a pause. 
> 
> A very merry Christmas awaits. 
> 
> I'm [@anniemar](http://anniemar.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr as well, if you want to hang. It's kind of an Oscar Isaac-centric blog at the moment, but will probably soon be back to it's regularly scheduled crying-over-Bucky-and-Cap programming.


	3. Consummation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Darcy have a ... talk. And then other things happen ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive, Lefty!

 

**~~::::::...::::::~~**

* * *

Darcy was sitting on the bed, anticipation on her face, naked from the waist up, and Bucky couldn't move from where he lay next to her, on his side. It was as if all the wires short-circuited in his brain and nothing worked anymore. He was rendered completely immobile.

"Bucky?"

He still hadn't looked at what he suspected were a pair of the most gorgeous breasts he ever (or was about to) lay eyes on.

"What's wrong?" Darcy asked, looking a bit hurt, pulling one of her blankets up and clutching it to her chest.

… _aaaand there they go._

He blinked a few times, to snap himself out of his fog. "N-nothing," he stupidly stammered, looking down. "It's just been … awhile."

Darcy's face softened, as she seemed to understand. "Okay. We can go slower."

Bucky looked back up. " _No_ ," he shot back, with a bit of desperation in his voice.

"Ooooo-kay," Darcy grinned. "What gives, then?"

He ran his right hand through his hair. "I'm just having a hard time believing this is real, I suppose," he said, sitting up.

"This is real, Bucky," she said, as she wrapped the blanket tighter around her torso, shielding her naked body from him for the moment, until she understood what was going on in his head.

He frowned in mourning, internally kicking himself for freezing up, as he could have had his face buried in her beautiful breasts at that moment, instead of heading towards the conversation he didn't think he needed to have, at first. Apparently he was wrong, however, as he wanted to know. He _needed_ to know the exact moment she wanted him as well, as he was wondering how long they could've been doing this every night and then some.

"How long have you …" His voice trailed off.

She guessed what he was thinking, as usual. "How long have I wanted to kiss you?" she asked, giving him what looked like a weary smile. "How long have I been waiting over here in agony, growing old, waiting for you to finally make a move?"

He nodded.

Darcy sighed. "Weellll … that first time we were introduced in a meeting, and you were like, ' _hmpf_ ' … I was definitely attracted to you, even though you were doing a _stunning_ Grumpy Cat impression. I honestly just wanted to give you a hug like, _so bad_ , but I also suspected that if I would've tried that, you would've then put me in a sleeper hold or something. But I wanted to wrap my arms around you, and tell you that everything was going to be okay. And bring you homemade soup. And a mug of hot cocoa. And a warm fuzzy blanket.

Bucky nodded, grinning. "Hey, you can still bring me homemade soup and hot cocoa if you want. Anytime. Even during my Grumpy Cat phase, I still would have never turned down a home-cooked meal from a gorgeous dame."

Darcy laughed softly. "I'll keep that in mind.

"So … when was it? When did you realize you wanted something ... more?

She gave him a wistful smile. "It was when you talked to me at that Avengers shindig, months ago. I know that it must have been hard for you ... because I don't think I had ever seen you initiate a conversation at that point. You made me feel better after Ian and I broke up … and I seriously wanted to make out with you. Like, _so bad_."

Darcy looked down, blushing. "That night, I had to get up and leave, to keep myself from being too forward … because I definitely had too much to drink, and it would have been like, hello! Rebound central up in here! … complete with an awkward morning-after, that kinda thing."

She then gave a little shrug. "Anyway, I didn't want it to be like that, so I just took my butt to bed. After that, we became such good friends, and I just figured it would all happen organically, as I was pretty sure you felt the same way. But then nothing ever happened … so I came to the conclusion that either you weren't ready, or you just didn't feel that way about me. Like, you just wanted to be friends. And if you weren't ready yet, I wasn't about to push you, because when it finally happened, I wanted it to _really happen_ , ya know? So I decided that no matter what, I'd give you the control over the situation. You had to make the first move, because only you would know when you were ready. I mean, you're so different now, from the guy I met that first day, the one who barely talked, barely smiled. You've got yourself back … you didn't need me distracting you from that, trying to jump your bones all the time, throwing sex into the equation, when you should have just been focused on healing … so I kinda let you do your own thing. Plus, I had just broken up with Ian. I mean, it was a very good thing that we broke up, it had been a losing battle for months, but I still needed the remnants of him out of my heart and out of my head."

Bucky felt stunned, like someone had just knocked him upside the head. "So this whole time …"

Darcy sighed. "Well. At this point, I figured you just didn't feel that way about me … I mean, it's been _awhile_ … but then you got me that easy chair for Christmas."

He gave her a little smile. "You remember what you told me about easy chairs? And tanks?"

She nodded emphatically. "Of course! I was drinking that night of the party, but I wasn't _that_ drunk. I remember what we talked about. ' _Love is either an easy chair or a tank_ '. I just didn't know if _you_ remembered, or if my Christmas present was just a coincidence," Darcy said, then frowned. "Or how literally you took me."

He gave a small laugh. "You should have seen the look on Tony's face when I told him what I was getting you. He thought I was nuts, or well, even more nuts than I already am … but I couldn't tell him the real reason why I bought it. It was the only way I could think of … to say what I needed to tell you … but without actually saying the words."

She lay back down, facing him, her eyes maybe even a little watery. "Really?"

Bucky nodded. "How could you think for a second that I might not want you?" He brushed the back of his hand along her shoulder, needing to touch her. "Silly girl," he whispered.

She shivered slightly and he couldn't help but smile, now knowing he had that affect on her. "Why didn't you say something?" he asked, softly.

Darcy shrugged. "I didn't want to force anything. I decided I'd just go with the flow. Like I said that night, I'm tired of the tanks, tired of going to war in my relationships ... tired of fighting. Tired of trying to figure out strategy and forming battle plans. Wading through power struggles. I just wanted this to be relaxed and groovy, let things happen on their own … and not be thrown together because of some crazy disaster. I just wanted to, you know … sit back, relax … and enjoy the ride," she said, the last word ending with a bit of a grin.

He raised a brow, grinning right back at her. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Darcy's jaw dropped, in that indignant expression of hers, that he could never quite decipher as real or put on. "Really? You froze!" she said, turning to lay on her back and crossing her arms. "I'm sitting here all Notting Hill 'n shit, like, 'I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her' … and _you_ … you're just laying over there bein' all 'deer caught in headlights' and yet also smoldery as hell at the same damn time … I mean, how do you even do that? It's not fair. You're ridiculous."

"Umm …"

"Whatever," she said rolling over so that her back was facing him, pulling her blanket up even further, and over her shoulder. "Time to go to bed. Chronically unsatisfied. As usual. Night night, Bucky."

Bucky frowned, confused. _What just happened?_

"Darcy … no-"

"Darcy, yes!" she said, still turned away. "Darcy, no! I mean, you're giving me whiplash over here, Mr. Moody McMoodyson.

He sighed as he scooted over, until he was stretched out behind her, his torso right up to her back. He gingerly put his left arm around her, and held her tight. "I'm sorry," Bucky said. "I'm so sorry that I froze … it's just been awhile since I've seen a naked girl up so close." He gave a little laugh. "You're so beautiful ... and I couldn't move. All the blood in my veins went straight to one place."

Darcy took a deep breath, and gave him a light pat on the back of his cybernetic hand. "It's cool, honey. I understand. You're tired. It's been a long day … I mean, it's not uncommon. It happens to all guys, apparently. Well, not to any of the guys that _I've_ dated, but it's a thing I hear that happens."

Bucky did a double-take. "What?"

"Performance issues."

It was time for Bucky's jaw to drop. "I don't have per- …"

He then noticed Darcy's shoulders begin to shake as she tried to bite back laughter. "You're a damn troublemaker," he said, as he collapsed onto his back, relieved that she had only been joking around.

She sat up, turning towards him again. "I know," she said, with a sultry voice, and then leaned over, brushing her sweet lush lips over his, for the lightest of kisses. "And you love it."

"I do," he simply said, letting the reality of it all sink in, and the knowledge that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. And he ached from it. _Everything_ ached. He needed respite from it, so very badly, in the form of release, which would hopefully come while he was buried between her thighs. He ran his hands up her back and pulled her closer to him, so that he could really kiss her, long and slow … cradling her neck and threading his fingers in her soft hair. They moved together languidly, exploring with tongues, subtly grinding against each other, and he was finally able to give her full lower lip a playful bite, something he'd wanted to do ever since laying eyes on her, for the first time.

Darcy straightened back up, licking her lips as though she were tasting their kiss. The expression on her face told him that he better be over his bullshit, because she was about to get down to business, so to speak. The look she was giving him, was one of pure lust, arousal, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted … and if he wasn't already hard to begin with, that would have done it in two seconds flat. She pulled back the blanket surrounding her, bearing her breasts to him again, and this time he looked … and didn't freeze. Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything so beautiful, than this girl who had a hold around his heart, looking down at him through her lashes, her long waves tumbling down her naked back, tousled in that bedroom sort of way, her creamy soft skin flushed and flawless. He reached up to cup her breasts, kneading, feeling their weight in his hands, so soft … and he ran his thumbs across her nipples, making her breath hitch right before she sighed in pleasure, tilting her head back.

He abruptly sat up, may have even growled, and switched their position, so that she was the one lying on her back, and he was above her, kissing down her neck, and then going back to the task of exploring her breasts, but this time with his mouth.

His tongue swirled around a nipple and she moaned. It was a sound that he'd wanted to hear from her for so long … a sound that he'd fantasized about a million times, and it was so _so_ much better and sweeter than all the daydreams his imagination conjured up.

"Is this really happening?" she asked, her voice breathy.

"Yes. Believe it," he answered, as he moved his attention from one breast to the other. He needed to give them the utmost attention, as he'd been waiting for this moment, for what seemed like decades. And by all that was holy, did her perfect breasts deserve the utmost attention.

"Oh, thank fucking god … I couldn't keep turning to my hand-held shower-head."

He looked up at her, distracted. "Shower-head?"

Darcy gave him a smirk, and reached up to run a hand through his hair, in an undeniably tender gesture. "I had to take a few showers in the middle of the night, to cool down ... my detachable shower-head works miracles, but I'm in desperate need of the real thing, if you don't mind."

He gave her a slow and crooked grin. "You did this while I was here? Asleep?"

She nodded.

"Hnn. Next time … wake me up? So I can watch?"

"It's a date."

Bucky went back to giving her neck soft kisses, then traveling lower. "I took plenty of cold showers myself. I even outran Steve a few times during morning runs, trying to burn off this … crazed energy."

Darcy's body arched, as if she were pleading with him to keep moving his mouth lower ... and lower. "You jerked off? Thinking about me?"

He grinned, kissing her stomach, breathing in the sweet scent of her skin. "'Bout everyday, little troublemaker. Several times, right in your bathroom, imagining you gripping the sink, while I fucked you from behind."

She gave a sound, something between a laugh and a moan ... but then fell silent as he began to slip her pajama bottoms and panties off, her breathing now heavier, her heart beating faster.

When he was growing up, he'd learned that sneaking a hand up a girl's top, would usually inspire her to put on the brakes, if things were going a little too fast … and the other instance with a yield sign, was when he'd inch a hand up a skirt, slipping his fingers inside restrictive undergarments, seeking out tender and delicate flesh, hoping to render it swollen and dripping wet from his attention. But more often than not, it was the former yield sign that was the norm, with the latter only happening during a few precious and long-gone moments, as times were different then ... and women had been frightened into being chaste, until a ring on the left hand gave them permission to finally seek pleasure.

_Thank god times have changed._

Darcy's undergarment certainly couldn't be described as "restrictive", however … more like scant. He carefully tugged the black lace down her legs, the soft fabric briefly reminding him exactly how much he loved and appreciated the modern era.

And perhaps he should have teased a bit more, taken more time to savor, but Darcy had grown oddly quiet, and he needed to hear that sweet voice again, while hopefully moaning his name. He didn't mess around, and put his lips to the sensitive flesh between her thighs, already swollen and wet, and making his cock pulsate, so much so that he had to fight back the urge to shove his own pajama bottoms down, and plunge right into her. Over and over.

When he ran his tongue in a slow circle around her clit, he was granted his wish and then some. "Bucky," she moaned, as her hands searched him out, her fingers threading through his hair, urging him on. He loved the taste of her, briny and sweet … with the feel of her warm slick flesh on his lips, revealing just how much she wanted him, as she was more than ready to be fucked, her arousal an urgent message to him, just as his nearly painful erection was no doubt telling her the same story, needing to penetrate, needing to be enveloped by her tight silky heat, easily moving within.

"Buuuucky," Darcy moaned again, the most delectable sound to ever reach his ears. She was writhing beneath him, all around him, her stomach muscles jumping, and she was slightly lifting her hips in rhythm with his tongue, driving him all sorts of crazy. "Want you so bad," she breathed … 'want you inside me."

He groaned at her request, as he was hanging onto mere shreds of self-control, wanting to give her proper attention. It was something he loved, and was never able to do as often as he'd liked when he was young … so it was still somewhat of a novelty, a girl letting him go down on her, naked, legs unashamedly spread for him, completely without tension or frigid self-consciousness. He so loved the modern era.

Bucky could feel her pulling on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but to climb up her body, instantly obeying her, and finding her lips again to kiss her, this time frantic and messy, primal instincts making them forget about perfection and taking one's time. Her hands were then under his t-shirt and he hurriedly took it off, for once not caring about his prosthetic and what she might think of it, or the angry scars that marred his shoulder and chest. But just before he was about to return to her lips, he caught the look in her eyes, enticingly dark, due to arousal … they swept over his body, giving him an expression of pure adoration and lust. She wanted him. Cybernetic arm and all. The knowledge of it left no more doubt in his mind ... this was exactly where he was supposed to be. He wasn't a man out of time ... he had all the time in the world. With her.

She reverently ran her fingertips down his stomach, and his muscles automatically flexed, unused to having someone touch him there ... the feeling of her hands on him was starting to make him delirious.

"It's like you're fucking Photoshopped," she mused, looking up at him, giving him a saucy grin. And when she traveled further, fingers brushing across the indentations along his hips, dipping under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, he couldn't wait a second longer, and he began to push them and his boxer-briefs down ... so that he could finally consummate their transition to lovers.

Darcy was one step ahead of him, however, and she helped push the last barrier between them down his legs with her hands, then her feet … and her fingers were instantly wrapped around his cock, completely disarming him, turning him into a panting mess, groaning into her neck, at the first tender and intimate touch in what seemed like a lifetime. And perhaps it even was.

"You're so hard," she whispered into his ear, slowly pumping him.

"Nnngh."

She let go of him in order to wrap her arms around him, like she was compelled to do the first day she saw him, reverently brushing her hands up and down his back, in a soothing pattern, enjoying the intoxicating sensation of naked skin on naked skin.

Bucky rose up a bit, supporting himself on his elbows. "Darcy … should we ... do we need …" his voice was rough and strangled from trying to hold onto a small semblance of control.

She grinned up at him, reading his lust-addled mind. "Condoms? Not unless you insist … I'm on the pill."

He closed his eyes in relief. He knew condoms were now different than the veritable armor that he once knew, but they still seemed as if he'd be trying to enjoy a show full of beautiful music, but with no bass.

_God bless the modern era._

Bucky locked eyes with her and hooked a thumb under her knee, spreading her further, while she reached between their bodies, and guided him to exactly where she wanted him. All he needed was a gentle thrust, his hips rolling into hers, and he was slowly pushing inside, and being surrounded by pleasure so intense, that he almost lost himself then and there. They both gasped at the penetration, shock on their faces at exactly how fucking good it felt.

Darcy arched her neck, crying out, as he slid in all the way ... and after he felt her legs wrap around him, urging him on, there were no more shreds of control left to latch onto. He simply let go, surrendering to the moment and the feel of her tight wet heat, the perfect and velvety slide ... marveling at how receptive she was, as he began to move harder, more deliberate, his thrusts becoming more demanding. Their coupling graduated from slow and gentle, to vigorous and primal ... and she moved right along with him, being an active participant, never passive. Never hesitant. Never self-conscious. It was all very stimulating, and soon, too soon, he could feel his release threatening, becoming more and more insistent. He needed to come … but he needed for her to go there with him.

"Want … to make you come," he said in her ear, then moved his lips back to her breasts, giving her nipple a playful bite.

Darcy whimpered at the sensation. "It's okay … we have all night for that." She could sense that he was close. "Come," she said, softly.

"No." He slowed his hips, going back to a more gentle pace. "Not without you."

"If you insist," she said, giving him a sultry laugh and pushing at his shoulders, giving him the hint that she wanted him on his back. He complied and she straddled him, hands on his chest. She bit her lower lip, sank back onto him, and established a new rhythm of her own ... rocking slowly at first, and gradually picking up a steady speed as they became in sync.

He gripped her thighs as he was struck by the sight of her fluid movements above him, undoubtedly one of the most erotic things he'd seen. He'd fantasized about the position hundreds of times, and yet the reality of it still stunned him to the point where he was dumbly staring up at her, his mouth agape in disbelief, an almost painful expression on his face, unable to convey the pleasure he was receiving. He groaned as he watched her, breath-taking hourglass hips riding him, full round breasts swaying, her tousled hair surrounding her face, flowing past her shoulders. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever experienced, and he was determined to hold out for her.

Bucky lifted his hips in time with hers, as she pushed down on him, her clit coming into much-needed contact with his pelvic bone. "Yesssssss," she hissed. "Right there. You feel ... so good. Your cock feels ... so good ... inside of me."

His eyes rolled back in his head at her dirty talk, combined with her movements … and he made a desperate and strangled sound. "Darcy …"

"Right there. So close. Bucky ... you're gonna make me ... come so hard."

He held onto her hips, almost for dear life, as he thrust up into her harder, and soon she was just at the edge, threatening to tip over.

She threw her head back with a gasp, and just in time, as he couldn't control his climax one moment longer. They came together, hard and loud, clutching at each other, as orgasm shook through their bodies, giving them what they'd been seeking for months, the sweet release from weeks and weeks of build-up. They felt as if they were floating, skin vibrating, and she collapsed, boneless, on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her body to him, as close as possible, as he was never planning on letting her go. She had just enough strength to lift her head and put her mouth to his, no longer desperate and hungry, but for the moment sated. They kissed languidly, enjoying the weightless peace and euphoria of afterglow.

"Love you," he whispered, as he swept her hair to one side, so he could kiss the skin of her shoulder.

She grinned as she lay her head on his chest. "Love you, too."

They both eventually drifted off to sleep, wrapped around each other, always trying to be as close to the other as possible, as Bucky would from now on make sure, that the booty was never on the other side of the bed from him.

**~~::::::...::::::~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm closing this out, marking it as finished ... but this will be one that I add to every once in awhile, mainly smutty chapters, for when my brain and muse needs a kick-start. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and putting up with my sporadic updates. Life be stupid busy at the moment. 
> 
> I'm @anniemar over at Tumblr too, if you'd like to stop by and hang.


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